


Still Shattered

by hallowed-vessels (hasbeenhotel)



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: I dont know how to tag things, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide trigger warning, This contains self harm, but i will cope and vent through ficitonal characters because it’s healthier, like seriously guys, not the second chapter you all wanted, panic attacks and hollow’s lack of self esteem, radiance and hornet and mostly just mentioned, self harm tw, vent fic, which is really not a good thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hasbeenhotel/pseuds/hallowed-vessels
Summary: Readjusting is difficult. Hollow knows that better than anyone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’d just like to state first off that self harm is *not* a good coping mechanism. There are better ways and people who will help.

The morning started off in a familiar, dreary autonomy. Wake up, get out of bed, hazily stumble to the kitchen, their balance forever destroyed by their missing arm.

Hornet had offered to try to find some sort of replacement, but they didn’t want one.

They were defective. Why shouldn’t everyone see it? Everyone should know they failed. Failed their _one_ purpose. Failed it because it hurt and they were tired.

Weak and pathetic. They didn’t deserve to be whole. They weren’t supposed to be whole, they were supposed to be PURE-

They needed to stop thinking like this. Hornet said it was bad. Water would help, right?

It didn’t.

Water was reflective, reflective of them, of what a failure they were, of their broken mask and that AWFUL, BLAZING SUN-

And glass shattered on the ground and their false heart beat too fast. The world went fuzzy and they felt numb. It was impossible to breathe, the air felt like a solid stone, crushing them.

Crushing them until they couldn’t take it anymore, then everything snapped back. They were on the ground. How did they get on the ground?

Oh, the glass. They should pick that up. So no one gets hurt. No one deserves to be hurt.

Except them. They deserved every ounce of pain they got.

They still had scars, large ones that covered most of their shell. From the nail that had been taken away.

The pain of stabbing themself hadn’t felt _good_, per say, but it had felt... right.

They had been in control again, even just temporarily. The pain made them feel alive. Like they had some modicum of control, even if they couldn’t control their thoughts or future or emotions, they could inflict pain on themselves. It was addictive.

It had helped. Maybe it wasn’t good, but it helped.

It helped then. It could help now, help ground them.

They had no nail, but they had glass.

Sharp glass.

Glass that was already cutting through their fingers, glass that they gripped tighter, glass that they stained in void and plunged into their own broken shell.

Maybe they started crying at one point, because it was painful and they were weak, but they didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

Their control was slipping. They grabbed more glass, made more cuts, broke more cups because they NEEDED a little bit of control.

Even if it had a cost. They could pay, they had to pay, hundreds of lives were on their bloody hand.

It became a mantra. Cut, cut, stab. Cut, cut, stab. Over and over. Over and over. Cut, cut, stab. Cut, cut, stab.

They wanted to stop. It hurt and they were tired and drenched in void, kneeling in a pool of it.

They felt hollow. Empty.

More tears streaked down their mask. More rips made in their shell.

**I want to go home.** They cried out weakly, even though there was no one around to understand their void-speech. **I don’t feel safe, I feel like she’s everywhere. I want to go home!**

Even after so long, she still haunted them. Radiance was everywhere, in every flicker of light, in every word they heard. In their dreams.

Even now, she stained this beautiful house, the house their siblings had made them. She’d crept in. Maybe she’d always been here.

She wasn’t leaving and she was scary and the emotions were confusing and it all came back to PAIN.

Pain and glass and void on the floor. Silent pleas for a rope, something to help them climb out of this pit. All they had was thorns, thorns and a monsoon, a tidal wave that drowned them in their own tears.

Perhaps it was just too ridiculous to keep hoping that things would get better.

They were being stupid, to think anyone would actually love them. Their father hadn’t. They thought he had.

He hadn’t. He was a king.

He had better things to do than look after his failed sacrifice of a child.

No one could love such a broken, worthless thing.

Yet, they stayed still and let Hornet remove the glass and bandage the cuts.

The idea of being loved could be such a pretty lie.


	2. Chapter 2

Hollow hated having thoughts. Thinking was like being burned alive. Horrible, painful. It would have been better if they have been made right. If they had managed to get rid of those pesky thoughts and emotions as a baby like they were supposed to.

Maybe then, things wouldn’t hurt so badly like they did now. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel like there were ropes on each of their horns, pulling harder and harder and letting their emotions rip them apart.

They clawed at the bandages covering the crack in their mask. It would be for the better if they were ripped apart. Because then- then their emotions wouldn’t hurt so much. People wouldn’t be able to say things that would hurt them if they couldn’t think and couldn’t feel. Hornet kept saying they would get better, but the times when they felt better were few and far between and they were always, always ruined by stupid little things!

_Quit feeling sorry for yourself. Whispered their traitorous brain. You always make everything about you! You’re so selfish, everyone would be relieved if you were gone. Then they could say what they wanted to without having to worry about upsetting your stupid, worthless feelings. You’re nothing more than a shameful, disgusting, obnoxious crybaby._

I’m not worthless! They tried to argue.

_Well, what worth DO you have? I’ll wait. Void tears started to build up in their eyes. Hollow curled up into a ball, clawing their head as if they could remove the poisonous thoughts. That’s right. You’re. Not. Worth. Anything. You whine and cry and that’s all!_

They retreated to a corner. Their emotions were too much. They just wanted it all to stop, or at least slow down so they could manage it.

The door to their room creaked open, and Hornet stepped in. Hollow pulled themselves into as tight of a ball as they could. They wanted to be alone.

She walked over to them, waving a hand in front of their face to get their attention. “Hey, what’s up?” She sounded worried and concerned.

Hollow ducked their head underneath their arm, staring at the ground. They felt bitter. She should know exactly what was up- she caused it. They heard her sigh, and then she wrapped her arms around them, trying to provide comfort through a hug.

They lashed out. Their fist made contact with her mask, flinging her backwards in a fit of rage. **_DON’T TOUCH ME,_** they wanted to scream. _**DON’T YOU DARE HAVE THE NERVE TO TRY TO HUG ME LIKE THAT WILL FIX EVERYTHING.**_

Hornet looked at them, hurt shining in her eyes. Hurt become something colder and harsher and that hurt more than her touch did, and she stormed out of the room.

Their anger immediately turned into regret, and their depression spiraled deeper.

_See? You can’t do anything right._

I didn’t mean to, I swear!

_Yes, you did! You’re disgusting! Everything would be better if you were dead._

Hollow silently wailed.

_You destroy everything you touch. No, you destroy everything you look at. Everything you think about. It would be better if you got thrown into the abyss and never were able to claw your way out. It would be-_

It would be better off if I were dead. I know. I’m just a coward.

More black stains were added to the carpet from their tears. Why did emotions have to hurt so much? Why did they have to break everything they touched, everything they cared about?


End file.
